


summer lovin'

by 324b2fun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Ingrid is in Denial, Misunderstandings, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/324b2fun/pseuds/324b2fun
Summary: When she lets Sylvain drag her to a party, Ingrid's summer plans are quickly derailed by the entrance of Dorothea Arnault into her life.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this story was inspired by [this art.](https://birbyonce.tumblr.com/post/189106855423/dorogrid-summer-fling-au-beagles-beach)

With a cup of questionable punch clutched in her hand, Ingrid finds herself at a party full of strangers. She curses Sylvain under her breath as she futilely searches for him. When Sylvain suggested they meet some of his friends after their shifts, Ingrid thought it would be maybe two or three friends sitting around the living room like they usually do with Dmitri and Felix. Instead, Ingrid had walked into a room where a guy was already passed out on the couch, another was desperately trying to put out a small fire, and another was lurking in the corner like he was waiting to poison someone. And that was only half of them.

Now, after almost two hours of being here, Ingrid has a better idea of the odd group of friends Sylvain knows, but she’s not any more comfortable. About twenty minutes ago, Sylvain had disappeared with another redhead, whispering to him with a smile that said he was up to no good. 

“Your boyfriend isn’t a very good one if he left you all alone.”

Ingrid jumps, quickly turning to find a pretty brunette standing beside her. She’s tall, taller than Ingrid, with her long legs on display in the denim shorts she wears. She smiles, something between coy and friendly, as she flips long curls over her shoulder and says, “Ingrid, right? I’m Dorothea. I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Sylvain missed me earlier. Can I get you a fresh drink?”

“No, it’s fine,” Ingrid says quickly. Her hand tightens around the cup as she tries to remember if she saw Dorothea earlier in the evening. There’s no way she had. She would have remembered her. Her eyes flicker down for a brief second before they’re snapping back up to the brunette’s face, cheeks reddening. She definitely would have remembered. Then Ingrid recalls what the other woman said and says, “Wait, Sylvain isn’t my boyfriend.”

The brunette smiles again, eyebrow lifting, as she says, “No?”

“No,” Ingrid repeats with a firm shake of her head. She can’t hold back the look of repulsion that takes over at the though, pulling a giggle from the other woman. “Sylvain is a childhood friend. That’s all.”

“My bad,” Dorothea shrugs. It’s casual and breezy and somehow also graceful. “It’s Sylvain, you know? I saw him with a pretty girl and just thought… Anyways, sorry.”

Pretty? Ingrid gets stuck on the word for a moment before she says, “It’s okay. You missed the introductions.”

“Still, let me get you a fresh drink to apologize,” Dorothea says. She lays her hand on Ingrid’s arm and flashes her a smile that Ingrid is quickly getting used to seeing. She peeks at Ingrid’s cup and wrinkles her nose. “Oh, I can’t believe Sylvain gave you that. Come on. There’s much better drinks than whatever that is.” Without waiting for an answer, Dorothea slides her hand down Ingrid’s arm and takes her hand. She tugs Ingrid to the kitchen, and Ingrid lets her for some reason. 

“Nothing strong,” Ingrid remembers to say when Dorothea starts rooting around in the refrigerator. Dorothea bends over to look in the drawers, and Ingrid quickly averts her eyes. “I don’t trust Sylvain to stay sober enough to get us back home.”

“I’m sure Edie won’t mind a few more freeloaders for the night,” Dorothea replies. It takes Ingrid a moment to realize she’s talking about Edelgard, the petite woman she’d met earlier who owned the house. “Here we go!” Dorothea stands back up, beaming proudly with a bottle of beer in her hand. She winks at Ingrid when she hands her it and says, “I hope you don’t mind. I assumed you’d prefer this over the fruity stuff we have.”

“You assumed correctly,” Ingrid replies with a slight smile. She goes to open it, only to pause when she realizes it’s not a twist-off cap. 

“Oh, right,” Dorothea says. “Bottle opener.” She walks over to a drawer, and Ingrid wonders how often Dorothea must come here to know where everything is. The thinking ends abruptly when Dorothea is suddenly standing right in front of her, much closer than is necessary. “Let me get that for you,” Dorothea says lightly. She pops the top off the bottle easily but doesn’t step away. She looks up and smiles, and Ingrid is suddenly struck by how green Dorothea’s eyes are. 

Ingrid thinks Dorothea starts to lean in when there’s suddenly a holler from the kitchen entrance. Dorothea smoothly steps away from her and turns around, talking to the blue-haired guy who walks into the kitchen shirtless. Ingrid stays where she is, leaning up against the counter and holding her beer with slightly shaking hands. 

“Lindhart, Caspar is your problem!” Dorothea shouts.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Caspar, the guy with blue-hair, whines. “I was just going to grab some pretzel sticks.”

Dorothea just stares at him. “For what?”

“The aliens, duh,” Caspar replies, and Ingrid can’t even tell if he’s drunk or not. 

Dorothea seems to know though because she grins and calls again, “Lindhart! Caspar is in his Area 51 stage of drunkenness. You know streaking comes next. He’s your problem tonight, remember? We drew straws!” There’s some grumbling from the living room, and Dorothea shoos Caspar in that direction. Once he’s gone, she turns back to Ingrid with a shy laugh. “Sylvain isn’t the only one who’s a handful when he’s drunk,” Dorothea says. 

“An interesting crowd you’ve got here,” Ingrid says. She takes a sip of her beer and watches as Dorothea mixes herself some kind of drink before walking over to her. “How do you all know each other?” Ingrid asks.

“Hmm, us?” Dorothea says. She hops up onto the counter and swings her legs before replying, “Private school. All of them, they’re filthy rich. I was there on a choir scholarship, and we all just ended up becoming friends.” It’s all said lightly and matter-of-factly, but there’s just something off about it. Ingrid turns to look at Dorothea, but she just smiles back innocently. Ingrid wants to ask, but she’s known Dorothea for all of twenty minutes. It’s none of her business.

Ingrid takes a big gulp of her beer and tries to think of what to say. It’s been so long since she’s met anyone new, especially anyone as pretty as Dorothea. She flushes. Drinking almost her entire beer in one go, Ingrid asks, “So, are you seeing anyone?” When Dorothea’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, Ingrid realizes how it sounds and fumbles to add, “Sorry, I just meant, I wasn’t coming onto you. I was just trying to make small talk.”

“And what if I wanted you to come onto me?”

Ingrid chokes on her last sip of beer. When Ingrid turns to her, Dorothea’s smile can only be described as wicked. Flushing, Ingrid mumbles into her beer, “Good joke.”

“Who said I was joking?” Dorothea replies. She slips off the counter smoothly before standing in front of Ingrid, close enough that Ingrid can feel the heat from her body. She tilts her head and offers a coy smile. She starts to lean before jolting to a stop. She licks her lips and gazes at Ingrid through half-lidded eyes. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away.”

Later, she’ll blame it on the alcohol, but Ingrid leans forward and presses her lips to Dorothea’s. As soon as their lips meet, it hits Ingrid what she’s doing. She goes to pull back, but then Dorothea’s hand is at the back of her head, pulling her closer. Dorothea kisses her like she knows what she’s doing. Nothing like her high school boyfriend and definitely nothing like any of the men her father has set her up with. Dorothea kisses her lightly and playfully, but she still takes Ingrid’s breath away.

Ingrid thinks she could spend the entire night like this, but then someone is clearing their throat. Ingrid jumps away from Dorothea and winces when her back hits the counter. She looks to where the noise came from and feels her face go red when she sees it’s Sylvain in the doorway. He’s wearing his most annoying grin, and Ingrid knows he definitely saw what her and Dorothea were just doing. The only consolation she has is that standing beside him is the other redhead, Ferdinand, with Sylvain’s arm slung around his shoulders. If she has any luck at all, Sylvain will be too wasted to remember what he saw.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ferdinand says awkwardly. He shifts Sylvain’s weight and grimaces. “Sylvain has had one too many shots. We tried to get him to just lay down on the couch, but he kept asking for you. We were gonna ignore him, but then he almost broke one of Edelgard’s lamps.”

Ingrid sighs and fights the urge to bury her face in her hands. She gives a thin smile on her face and says, “No problem. We should be getting home anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Ferdinand asks, eyes flicking over Ingrid’s shoulder where Dorothea still lingers.

“I’m sure,” Ingrid nods. She pointedly does not look back at Dorothea as she steps forward and takes Sylvain from Ferdinand. She does hesitate in the doorway, wondering if she should say something, but she doesn’t know what. She doesn’t kiss strangers at parties, and she certainly doesn’t kiss women at all. Ingrid shakes her head. She’s much more drunk than she realized. 

With a muttered thanks to Ferdinand, Ingrid leaves the party with Sylvain stumbling alongside her. She doesn’t get the chance to thank Edelgard for her hospitality in her haste to leave, and she doesn’t say goodbye to Dorothea either. It’s better this way, Ingrid thinks. It’s not like they’ll see each other again after this anyways. If Sylvain ever invites her to hang out with this group again, she’ll just say no.

It takes longer than it should, but Ingrid manages to get them back to Sylvain’s beach house where they’re staying for the summer. Normally, their families would never allow a single guy and a single girl to stay alone in a home together, but it’s Sylvain and Ingrid. Everyone knows that’s not going to happen. 

Ingrid forces a glass of water down Sylvain’s throat before she dumps him in his bed. She does her best to tuck the blankets around him before she sets some aspirin and water beside him. She does the same for herself and curls under the covers. 

When Ingrid closes her eyes, she remembers the press of Dorothea’s lips against hers and groans. She buries her face into her pillow and wills the memory away. It’s never happening again. Ingrid is supposed to meet another possible fiance, a man, at the end of summer. She doesn’t have time for pretty brunettes with long legs. 

Eventually, Ingrid must fall asleep, but when she does, it’s with Dorothea’s giggles ringing in her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Ingrid wakes up to her alarm beeping in her ear and thanks her lucky stars that all she has is a faint headache. She rolls out of bed and gets ready for the day, braiding her hair back and donning her usually lifeguard uniform. On her way to the kitchen, she pokes her head into Sylvain’s room and throws a balled up sock she finds on the floor. It hits him square in the face, making him jerk awake.

“I hate you so much,” Sylvain mutters when he spies her in the doorway.

Ingrid just smirks and continues on her way. She’s dealt with a hungover Sylvain more times than she cares to remember, so Ingrid is quick to make oily over-easy eggs and bacon with toast for breakfast. She makes sure to brew an extra strong pot of coffee and hopes that Sylvain isn’t too grumpy for their shift. 

As she cooks, Ingrid recalls the night before. She remembers Dorothea for a moment, her body and lips pressed against her, before she quickly shakes her head. A drunken mistake. That’s it. Ingrid ignores the fact that she wasn’t all that drunk last night, tipsy more than anything else, and keeps cooking. Ingrid is going to marry a man, just as her father expects of her. 

“I’m thinking about suing the sun,” Sylvain announces as he drags himself into the kitchen. He slumps down at the table and accepts the plate of food and coffee from Ingrid with a grateful nod. He shoves a bite of eggs into his mouth and continues, “I mean, where does it get off, being that bright?” 

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s the sun’s fault that you got wasted last night,” Ingrid points out. She gets herself some food and coffee and sits down across from him. Ingrid shakes her head at him and says, “I can’t believe you drank so much, and for what?” Ingrid wonders if she should say what she’s really thinking before she shrugs and goes for it. “Felix wasn’t even there.”

Ingrid shouts as Sylvain spews coffee all over the table, narrowly missing her food. 

“Ingrid, what the hell?” Sylvain chokes out.

“Me? You’re the one who just sprayed coffee all over the place!” Ingrid retorts. She gets up and grabs some paper towels to wipe up the mess. She throws a handful at Sylvain for good measure and is pleased when he picks them up and helps clean. “Seriously, are you okay though?” Ingrid asks as she sits back down. 

“Why did you bring up Felix?” Sylvain demands.

“I’m not blind, you know,” Ingrid tells him. When Sylvain mumbles something under his breath, Ingrid narrows her eyes and says, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Sylvain lies. “Just drop the Felix thing.” Ingrid gives him a look, but he just shakes his head and says, “He won’t be down for another month when everyone else comes. Just… drop it until then.”

It’s not like Sylvain to be so closed off about his feelings, so he really must mean it. Ingrid backs off and changes the subject to what they should do for lunch. Sylvain smiles and teases Ingrid about only thinking with her stomach, and they both relax into the easy topic. 

Since Ingrid cooked, Sylvain offers to wash dishes. Ingrid accepts without missing a beat, and she wonders if he feels guilty for snapping earlier. That must be it because she can tell by the way he keeps blinking more than usual that his headache hasn’t gone away yet. Ingrid doesn’t press about it though and instead goes to make sure their bags are ready for the day. Lifeguarding isn’t a particularly exciting job, despite what movies make it look like. It’s really just a lot of yelling at people whenever they get too rowdy. 

By the time Ingrid and Sylvain head down to relieve the early morning shift, the beach is beginning to bustle with families and young adults looking for a fun day in the sun. There’s a nice breeze today, and Ingrid takes a moment to savor it before the beach gets too loud. 

“Hey, isn’t that the girl you made out with last night? Dorothea?”

Ingrid’s eyes fly open and follow Sylvain’s finger to where he’s pointing at the group of people they hung out with last night. Caspar, the alien drunk, is practically jumping up and down as he talks to the rest of the group. Among them, just as Sylvain said, is Dorothea. Ingrid feels her mouth go dry as she takes in the sight of the other woman in a deep red bikini, brown curls pulled into a ponytail that leaves her neck bare.

Snapping out of her daze, Ingrid shoves Sylvain’s arm down and hisses, “It’s not polite to point.”

“Didn’t deny it,” Sylvain replies with a knowing grin. “Was she a good kisser? I’ve always wondered.”

“Shut up,” Ingrid says, and if her cheeks are red, well, it’s just the sun. “I was drunk.”

Sylvain pauses and quirks an eyebrow at her. It feels like he knows something she doesn’t. “Really,” Sylvain says, voice heavy with something that might be amusement. “You were drunk?”

“Not nearly as drunk as you, but yes,” Ingrid says. She glares at him, daring him to say otherwise. She was drunk. Dorothea just happened to be pretty and forward, and Ingrid was drunk. 

There’s a beat of silence before Sylvain turns away and yells, “Dorothea!” At the sound of her name, Dorothea startles and looks at them. When she spots them, she seems to freeze for a moment before offering a friendly smile and wave. Ingrid thinks Sylvain will leave it at that, but then he’s grabbing her arm and dragging her over to the group.

“Morning, guys! How’re the hangovers?” Sylvain asks. 

While Sylvain talks to the rest of the group, Dorothea walks up to Ingrid. Her face is weirdly blank, hands twisted together in front of her. She says, “I’m sorry if I… made you uncomfortable last night. It was not my intention to do anything you didn’t want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Ingrid says quickly. “You didn’t force me to do anything, I swear. It wasn’t like that. I was just drunk, but like, not drunk enough not to consent, you know? I was just… I didn’t–” Ingrid flounders for a second before she blurts out, “I’m straight!” When Dorothea only stares, Ingrid hurriedly continues, “Don’t think you did anything wrong though. I was just… No one has ever been interested in me like that so openly before, and I just… We’re okay.” Ingrid feels like her face is on fire with how hot it feels right at this moment. “We’re okay,” Ingrid repeats.

“Are you sure?” Dorothea asks so softly that Ingrid feels like she might melt.

“Absolutely,” Ingrid nods. She laughs and rubs the back of her neck, saying, “We’re both adults. We both know what happens at parties sometimes.”

Dorothea purses her lips before she gives a nod of her own. A small smile graces her lips. “Of course. We’re both adults, and as two rather fantastic adults, if I do say so myself, I say we should be friends.”

“That would be great!” Ingrid agrees, smiling too. She likes the idea of that, being able to hang out with Dorothea more. Mercedes is always telling her she needs more girl friends. “I’m here all summer for work and free most evenings, so whenever you’re free…”

“I’ll be sure to call the dashing lifeguard,” Dorothea finishes with a playful grin. “But in order to do that, I will need said dashing lifeguard’s number.”

“Right,” Ingrid nods. She hands over her phone to Dorothea and watches her tap in her phone number and text herself. When Dorothea hands her phone back, Ingrid sees that she’s put her contact name as ‘ _Dorothea Arnault’_ followed by a smirking emoji that makes Ingrid torn between laughing and rolling her eyes. That's something Sylvain would do, but it's slightly less annoying coming from Dorothea. “I’ll text you later,” Ingrid tells her.

Dorothea smiles again, but there’s something off about it. “I look forward to it,” Dorothea replies.

Ingrid smiles back and tells her goodbye before grabbing Sylvain and forcing him back to their post. As they walk away, Ingrid glances over her shoulder at Dorothea and blushes when she finds Dorothea staring back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid's middle name is Denial.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fe3h story, so please let me know if you think it's worth continuing!


End file.
